


Because I Love You

by MuggleBornPrince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Drarry, Fluff, Gay, Harry Potter - Freeform, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Memory Loss, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, lgbtq+, m/m - Freeform, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuggleBornPrince/pseuds/MuggleBornPrince
Summary: The flick of a wand, a simple spell, a simple wordObliviate6th year at Hogwarts is just beginning, and with the comeback of Voldemort just months ago, everyone is on high alert, especially Harry Potter. He's failing his classes, not eating and he can't sleep, which isn't helped by his constant vivid dreaming.Throughout all this, there is one person who seems to always be around him.Draco Malfoy.But they are both far too occupied to notice this likely coincidence. Because while Harry may be preparing to fight the Dark Lord, Draco is being made to fight alongside him, against Harry himself.So Draco envies Harry, for fighting he who shall not be named is much more desirable than feeling the searing pain of a dark mark moving under your skin, being given missions of murder to complete with your life at stake, or worse, your loved ones lives.And there is one thing Draco loves more than anything:Harry James Potter.





	1. A Dream?

It wasn't a particularly pleasant evening, rain trickled down the windows yet it was still fairly warm. Draco Malfoy walked outside without a jacket nevertheless, his hair slicked back with rain, painting him similarly to his younger, even more arrogant self. He is seemingly wandless, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets and while the rain may mask it to those nearby, he is crying. The reason is almost irrelevant, for it is extremely rare to see the hard faced Slytherin boy cry. It is many hours before he shelters himself from the rain, exhausted but far too tired to sleep. 

A little while away, a tall, dark haired, bespectacled boy is fast asleep, fringe pushed back, revealing the widely known lightning scar going across his forehead. He is dreaming, in which he is watching somebody, somebody he could recognise if only they would turn around, but they don't. While he himself is sheltered in a shop doorway, the mysterious figure stands out in the rain, completely exposed other than thin clothing and a bandage wrapped tightly around their right forearm. 

Harry Potter wakes up shivering, as if he really had been out in the cold of his dream. As he thinks this, he wonders whether it really was a dream, for it felt just as real as this very moment that he ponders. He attempts to shake it off and gets up out of bed, sliding his circular glasses over the crooked bridge of his nose as he does so.  
Ron is stirring in the bed beside him, Harry observes, perhaps creepily, as he awakes. With seemingly good reason, Ron looks startled upon seeing Harry. 'You alright Harry?' he asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes followed by a loud yawn along with a single blue bubble left over from binging their Honeydukes purchases the night before. As if not hearing him, Harry continues to stare in Ron's direction. Ron's face crumples with confusion as he waves a hand in front of Harry's face, quickly bringing him back to reality. 'Sorry, yeah I'm fine' Ron frowns, drawing attention to the dark orange freckles decorating his cheeks 'You don't look or seem fine mate'.

Harry slides his trunk out from under the bed, tracing the HJP with his index finger as he loosens the clasp. He pulls out his uniform and robes as he says 'I'm fine, honestly Ron, I just had a strange dream'. Ron sighs to himself as  Harry closes the curtains around his bed and begins to get changed behind them. 'It wasn't you know who again was it?' Ron finally plucks up the courage to ask. Despite knowing he is hidden behind a curtain, Harry shakes his head vigorously as he says 'No, no, not this time, it was about, in fact, I'm not even sure who it was.' Ron cocks his head to the side in confusion 'Care to explain?' He asks. 'It's just, in my dream, there was this person, stood out in the rain and I was watching them, I could sense that I should recognise them but I didn't'. While Harry may be unaware of this, Ron appears much more puzzled than before. 'What so you mean their face wasn't familiar to you at all?', Harry pauses, hesitating due to the strange nature of his connection to his dream. 'Well the person didn't exactly turn around, is all'. Ron cant help but laugh as he says 'Then how the bloody hell could you tell you didn't know them?'. 

Harry sighs as he opens the curtains of his bed once again, sliding his wand into his robe pocket while running his fingers over the delicate engraving at it's base. The Signum Amoris or as many folk call it, The Soulmate's Engraving. The engravings themselves have no obvious meaning from just looking at them, they seem to be random intricate patterns. Despite this, it is said that every engraving has an identical twin on another wizard's wand. They say that the owners of the matching wands are destined to be together, soulmates, and that due to this, those two wizards may never duel, for each of their wands will refuse to harm the other. Many wizards, Hermione being one of them, claim this to be utter nonsense, believing a different theory concerning the magical trees that the wands are crafted from. Harry himself favours the soulmate tale, he likes the idea of someone being able to love him unconditionally, and that fact being decided by fate. However he doubts the credibility of his views since his constant battle with the dark side makes it very easy for him to run away with the idea of love.

Harry finally looks up at Ron and attempts an explanation of his dream 'It wasn't so much that I didn't know them, even from the back I had an idea of who it was' he pauses, leaving Ron an opening to express his confusion 'Then what on earth are you talking about Harry? Did you know them or didn't you?' Harry absentmindedly runs his hand through his messy fringe as he says 'When I looked up at them, I felt a rush of positive emotion, like it was someone I should have a strong connection with, but if it was who I think it was, that would surely be impossible,' he shakes his head to himself.

Ron sits down beside Harry, 'Well who the bloody hell was it then?'

Harry hesitates before he says

'Draco Malfoy'


	2. A Smiling Photograph Boy

Ron didn't say much after that. Between them they convinced themselves that anything is possible in a dream, and there is no reason for it to have  a deeper meaning. Despite this, if Ron were to look deeper, it would have been obvious that Harry knew it meant something, whether it turns out it was a dream or not. He has had enough visions planted into his brain by Voldemort to know what is just a dream . And the 'dream' with Malfoy, that was definitely more than a dream. 

Nevertheless, Harry found it much easier to just shake it off, ignore it, and this pretty much worked as he went about his day of classes. First he had Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid so it was easy enough to be distracted with him around. After that was Defence Against the Dark Arts and with Snape piling ridiculous amounts of work on the class, he was way too busy to think about anything else. However next is Potions with the Slytherins and Harry has a feeling it won't go as smoothly.

At first, everything is as usual, although Harry can't help but notice that Malfoy is being suspiciously quiet. He hasn't spoken for the entirety of the lesson, not so much as an arrogant squeak. As they begin to brew their potions however, things change slightly. Since acquiring the 'Half-Blood Prince's' copy of Advanced Potion Making, Harry has excelled at Potions and to his memory, Malfoy has taken every opportunity to antagonise him about this.

****

On the other side of the classroom, stood beside the painfully irritating Pansy Parkinson, Draco is worrying. He knows of the behaviour everybody expects from him, but he is unsure if he can bear to insult Harry, after everything. Despite this, deep down, he knows he must so as to not raise suspicion. Slughorn drops a leaf into Harry's Draught of Living Death and it immediately crumbles and dies. 'Merlins beard!' Slughorn exclaims 'It's perfect!' he grabs Harry by the arm and pulls him up in front of the class. 'I award Mr Potter, one tiny vial of Felix Felicis, use it well.' The majority of the class, minus a few of the Slytherins, cheer but Draco inaudibly sighs for he knows that soon, he must give Harry a hard time. 

As Slughorn proceeds to praise Harry, Draco scoffs and begins to smirk. As expected, The Golden Trio all turn to glare at Draco, 'Problem Malfoy?' Ron questions. Draco decides that he may as well waste no time in shooting back a sarcastic remark. 'It's just, I'm suprised H-,' He coughs 'Potter, can see properly with his head so far up old Slughorn's arse'. He forces a laugh, accompanied by those of his Slytherin 'friends' but he knows his actions are far from humourous. 'Come off it Malfoy' Ron begins but Hermione holds his arm back , 'Leave it Ronald, he's not worth it.' Draco sighs with relief and quickly turns away as Slughorn announces the end of the lesson.  
Harry doesn't contribute much to this ordeal for he could have sworn that Malfoy went to call him Harry and couldn't think straight afterwards. He willingly takes the Felix Felicis as he has a feeling it won't be long until he's in need of some luck and proceeds to pack up his things. As he does so, he seems to catch a glance of Malfoy staring at him out of the corner of his eye however when he turns to look properly, he is looking down as if he always were.

****

Draco runs from the classroom as soon as possible when he feels tears begin to sting his eyes. No Draco.  He thinks to himself.  You will not cry here. You are not weak. You can not let anyone see you cry. He then decides that he cannot bare to spend any more time in his classes today and makes his way to the infirmary, feigning a headache. Madam Pomfrey doesn't seem convinced of this, but it would be clear to an outsider that she could tell something else was troubling Draco. She lays a comforting hand on his shoulder nevertheless, handing him a headache relieving potion and recommending he spend the remainder of the day resting in his dorm room. 

Draco readily takes Madam Pomfrey's advice and  retreats to his common room, absentmindedly giving the password 'Salazar' and making his way up the stairs to his dorm room. He fumbles with the doorknob before bursting inside and clambering under his emerald green bedsheets, closing the matching curtains around him and setting the potion at his bedside with no intention of consuming it. Despite being completely alone, he wanted to feel he had the highest level of privacy. As hard as he tries to prevent it, he can't control the tears that fall once his head hits the pillow. 

So he lets the tears flow, he cries for what feels like hours, but he's really no idea how long it is until they finally dry up. He lifts his head to see a wet patch on his pillow, sighing at his weakness and quickly drying it with a simple charm.  With that he slides his trunk out from under his bed, loosening the clasps one by one and slowly lifting the lid. He digs amongst the clothes until he finds what he'd looking for: An ornate ink black box, protected by a collection of enchantments which prevent the items inside from being damaged.  He places his hand on the top of the box and feels it begin to unlock, drawing his hand away as the lid springs open.

Draco pulls out a few photographs along with many handwritten letters and a silver bangle. He picks up the photographs, all featuring the same person, and begins to flick through them, the first being a candid shot in which he is laughing at something Draco sadly can't remember. His round glasses are balanced at the tip of his nose, bringing attention to his striking green eyes and faded freckles. In the second, which is partially burned where Draco attempted to be rid of his painful reminders, Draco is sat beside him, leaning his head on his shoulder and looking happier than ever. As tears begin to fall again he decides that's enough and moves onto the letters.   
They are all addressed to and from the same two people, letters between Draco and the person in the photographs. He doesn't read them as he's sure they would upset him far too much and it can't be long until the others return from their final classes. However he runs his fingers over the messy handwriting of the photograph boy, sliding the polished bangle onto his wrist as he scans for a certain passage from one of the very earliest letters.

Draco - Enclosed in this envelope is a silver bangle, it is linked with a golden one that  I wear at this very moment. I have been studying the method used to create spells and  believe I may have finally succeeded. If so then when you wish to meet me, all you must do is think of the time you want to meet (assuming our constant meeting place is the Room of Requirement) and point the tip of your wand towards your bangle. You then must simply use my spell  'Nos In Unum Deducere'.  If all goes to plan, I would then feel the bangle tighten slightly to indicate your message which would display the requested time. I would then have the option to tell you I am unable and that message would be sent back to you. I believe you've probably gotten the point by now.  I hope to Merlin that this works. - Harry

 After storing the box of memories away, he conjours a mirror only to see a different person staring back at him. This person is weak, not strong. He is crying, not unfeeling. This person is tender and broken, not sarcastic and rude and critical of the only person who has ever loved him. 

And above all else: 

This person is certainly not capable of murdering Albus Dumbledore.


	3. Obliviate

School goes by as normal that week, since beginning their NEWT classes Draco and Harry share very few classes and therefore don't have to try very hard to avoid one another. Even in the classes they share they haven't seemed to notice each other much since while Harry is trying hard to concentrate and do well, Draco doesn't seem to be at all interested in academics this year. Harry finds this to be a shame, as much as he hates Draco, he can't help but notice his natural intelligence.

However outside of lessons, Draco finds an overwhelming urge to find Harry, not even speak to him, just find him, admire him. Even the thought of this sends a pain to his chest, an inexplicable pain, so much so that as he sits outside with his 'friends', he can't help but run a hand through his hair and tug on it. As he does so he breathes a sigh of relief, the pain helping the misty world come back into focus as he yearns for his lover. 

When he thinks this, he realises that Harry is no longer his 'lover', Harry hates  him, he hates him pretty much more than anyone, except perhaps You Know Who, and for Draco, that fucking hurts. It hurts to an extent that he cannot possibly bear for long. Draco is breaking, and he can feel every crack, every piece of his very being breaking off and floating into the cool winter air, dispersing only to become part of the air they breath, much too far gone to ever retrieve. 

Despite all this, all of this heartbreak and sorrow, all of the pain and the tears, Draco wouldn't change it for the world. He knows he made the right decision, a good decision. He had to do it, he had no choice. Voldemort had his hands tied behind his back and he did all he saw possible. 

He obliviated Harry James Potter, The Chosen One, the one person to ever survive the killing curse, 5 time defeater of the Dark Lord himself. But to Draco, he was so much more than that, he was Harry, Draco's boyfriend, the boy he loved more than anything else, his reason to  live, his world. He erased every memory of them together. Everything. Every look in one another's direction, every conversation, every smile shared, every embrace, every holding of hands, every kiss. Every ounce of their relationship was now gone from Harry's mind. 

But, Draco thinks to himself, I never got to tell him how happy he made me. 

He lets his head fall back, hitting the tree trunk he is leaning against pretty hard, but he shows no obvious sign of discomfort. I had no choice  he thinks over and over again to himself. I never could have seen the look on his face when he discovered that I'm a death eater. What I have to do. I couldn't have let him see the same hands that held his so comfortably, be those to bear the blood of the only remaining father figure in his life. I couldn't have let anyone close enough to me so that Voldemort could use them as a way to punish me. I couldn't see him in any more pain than the great amount he has already had to endure. And perhaps most of all, I couldn't have him worrying about me all the time, trying not to die because he doesn't want to hurt me. 'For merlin's sake' I'd told him, as I nursed his wounds from the battle at the Ministry of Magic. 'As I've told you countless times before, I don't matter, I'm replaceable, dispensable.' He'd gone to interject but I'd never let him 'You're special Harry, you're the chosen one, my chosen one and you are going to defeat the Dark Lord. I don't know how and I certainly don't know when but I know it. because my God, you really are something Harry James Potter and it is the biggest honour to even know you.'  

Draco smiles to himself (causing a few sideways glances between Blaize and Pansy) as he remembers Harry's response to this. To his memory, Harry had looked up at him as he nursed his wounds and said 'Draco?'  He'd put down the potion bottle he was using and looked at Harry expectantly. 'I love you.' With that Draco had simply kissed Harry, for he can't remember how long, and Harry had taken this as an 'I love you too' but one thing Draco does remember is that he had never told Harry he loved him, and why? Because he was scared. He was too fucking scared to tell the only person he'd probably ever loved, that he did, and now he never can. 

'Draco, we need to get to Defence Against the Dark Arts, I can't afford to get another detention with Snape' Pansy says, resting a hand on Draco's shoulder. 'Get off' he says sternly, forever unwilling for anyone but Harry to show him signs of affection. She looks hurt, and to most people it's painfully obvious why, she's had a crush on Draco for years however at the same time Draco sees it's painfully obvious that he's gay, and thus wishes she'd back off. 

As they walk to their lesson, while Draco should be worrying about seeing Snape since he is one of few who knows of Draco's mission, he continues to think of Harry. He remembers all the moments that he caused Harry to forget, he misses the kisses that Harry will never remember, he lives in the moments that made him feel alive, and more than that, happy. 

Draco looks into the blazing winter sun and extends his arm towards it, stretching his slender fingers out to shade the light from his eyes. I'm sorry Harry. He thinks, turning his hand over and letting his sleeve fall back, revealing his silver bangle, now clear of all engravings. I always loved you. Draco excuses himself and runs to the hidden part of the Hogwarts grounds, a little while behind Hagrid's hut, finding the tree that was their first every meeting spot. He slips off his bangle and bury's it deep in the snow, casting a sealing charm upon it so that it may never be found by anyone but him or Harry.   
Now alone, Draco whispers 'And I always will'.


	4. Draco?

Harry has been distant.

Hermione and Ron are sure that something isn't quite right with him but every time they try to bring it up in conversation he either tries to divert the conversation or ignores them completely. At the same time, if Harry were to open his eyes he'd see that there is something clearly going on with them as well. Each of them is so wrapped up in their own worlds that no one pushes for further information from the others.

Harry has spent pretty much every evening in the library since the start of the year, no body is sure quite what he is up to but many assume he's studying and make jokes at his expense. As he returns from the library that night, Ron becomes one of those people. 'You alright mate, you're spending an awfully long time in the library recently. It's like you're turning into bloody Hermione.' With that Hermione hits him with the book she was reading which in Harry's opinion gives fact to Ron's statement, but he says nothing.  
'Harry?' Hermione forgets her anger to show concern towards her seemingly troubled friend. Harry effortlessly conjures an excuse 'I've just been studying Hermione, since I didn't expect to be taking Potions and we both know I'm bloody awful at it, I've been trying to put in some extra time.' He decides to add more to try and convince her further 'I've been doing Defence Against the Dark Arts too, you know what Snape's like with me I can't afford to piss him off this year.' 

Hermione wrinkles her nose in suspicion 'While I'm absolutely delighted to see one of you putting effort into your studies for once,' she sends a sarcastic glance Ron's way, 'When have either of you ever cared about classes?' 

Ron begins to look offended, but a puzzled expression takes over. 'As rude as that was', he returns Hermione's foul glare, 'I have to admit, she's got a point you know.' Ron scratches his head and continues 'Even when we had OWLs last year you weren't this focused.'

Harry shrugs and replies 'I don't know what you want me to tell you, I've just been studying for once.' Hermione narrows her eyes 'Are you sure Harry? I don't mean to push you I just can't help but worry, you're my best friend.'

'Honestly Hermione, I'm fine. Don't waste your time worrying about me. He doesn't leave room for Hermione to object and goes straight to his room, feeling unjustified tears prick the back of his eyes as he does so, shaking them off as if they are nothing. 

They're not.

****

The trio slept harmoniously, but little did they know Draco Malfoy was standing in the common room with them for hours before. He'd been following Harry around for weeks on end, using his borrowed (and never returned) invisibility cloak. He figured Harry wouldn't miss it much, for his main use of it had been meeting Draco in the middle of the night, and he had a feeling that wasn't going to happen again any time soon, or at all. He'd been spending pretty much every waking hour at Harry's side, extending his hand towards him, wishing he'd absentmindedly take it like he used to, before Draco had even removed cloak. 

All interest in his studies has been lost, Draco isn't stupid, he knows his intellect is above average, but it's clearly suffering from his lack of caring. In the past week alone, he has received several owls from his father, raging about the countless owls he has received from the school claiming Draco had gone off the rails. He himself feels he has done nothing of the sort, but more like without Harry, he will never be able to live his life to the fullest, with or without his studies. As he walks to the Great Hall, exhausted, he ponders the amount of owls he will receive today, even making a joke of it in guessing his father's hopeless attempts at getting him to turn his life around. He laughs to himself. What life?  
However as he reaches the doors of the Great Hall, he feels a tentative hand brush his shoulder. In pure Malfoy fashion, he ignores it and walks on until he hears a quiet but painfully familiar voice say 'Wait'. Although every force he can muster wills him not to, Draco whips around and feels his heart drop when his misty grey eyes meet the cool green before him. He takes a deep breath, 'What is it Potter?' he attempted to sound snarky but came across more exhausted, he shrugs to himself, not really caring anymore. Harry shuffles awkwardly from either foot, his glasses askew, Draco longs to reach forward and straighten them as he used to, but he can't let himself lose control. 

"What's up with you?' Harry asks, his heart beating so loudly against his chest he fears Malfoy will hear it, but trying to stand tall all the same. 'Absolutely nothing and even if there were, why in Merlin's name should you care?' he responds quickly, but Harry swears he hears a quiver in his voice towards the end. The truth is, Harry has no idea why he cares, none at all, but ever since that dream, now weeks ago, he can't keep his focus away from Malfoy, from Draco. He doesn't realise that he's staring at Draco, speechless until he waves a pale hand in front of his face 'Well Potter?'. Harry sighs, 'Honestly Draco, I've no idea, but I do, so if you don't tell me what the fuck is up with you I swear to Godric I'll kill you.' 

Draco's heart stops, and as his control slips away from his grasp he does the least Malfoy thing imaginable, he smiles. 'Did you just call me Draco?'


	5. Malfoy.

Shit. Harry begins to sweat profusely while struggling to come up with an acceptable response, with no such luck he simply replies 'Yeah, I guess I did'.

Fuck. Draco becomes unable to control his body as he fumbles his hands together behind his back, clicking his knuckles, trying to muster up the courage to send back a snarky reply, with no success he responds 'But why?'.

Harry sighs 'Does it matter? In fact, forget I even said anything, I don't know what came over me, just forget it.' He turns his back on Draco, half to walk away and half because he can't bare to look anymore. And why? Because the Draco he was seeing wasn't the one he knew, this Draco had a kind, softened complexion, not hard-faced with a painted on smirk, he was awkward and timid, not headstrong and uptight, and behind those eyes, coloured with the mist of a rainy spring day, was a glint of sorrow, they did not gleam with cunning as they once had. 

Draco wants nothing more but to grab Harry's arm and pull him back, leading him to the Room of Requirement where he would convince him of the relationship they used to have, just so he could see the way his emerald green eyes lit up when Draco told him how much he meant to him, told him how truly wonderful he was. Because Draco now knows the struggles Harry faces with being the chosen one, everyone wants to know about him, yet no body wants to know him. Nobody but Draco. (And for the most part, Ron and Hermione, though Draco would sooner die than admit that fully.) 

But in that moment Draco regains hold of his control and composure, so he just lets Harry go, watching as the messy brown haired boy walks into the Great Hall, hanging his head. But while Draco seems to be relieved by this, pleased even to be rid of the 'irritating' boy, in actuality he can feel every fibre of his very being tearing apart as he feels his true love break away. Again. Always again, over and over again he feels himself being torn apart, torn away from Harry, and every single bit of it is his own fault. 

Draco subconsciously raises his hand to touch where he knows his dark mark is pulsing beneath the too-thin fabric of his school jumper and robes although he wonders if anything could feel concealing enough, he thinks not. No one told him it would hurt, and not just during, after as well, but not just physically but mentally too. The process was so far past traumatic that Draco's certain there isn't a word to capture it, the pain was unbearable but it wasn't a patch on the tugging and tearing he felt in his brain as the 'Dark Lord' found his home there. He speaks to Draco sometimes, Draco ponders whether this is how Harry had felt for so many years and feels a sharp pain in his chest. What would Harry say about the evil ink beneath his skin?

Once he's sure Harry must be sat down, Draco himself walks into the Great Hall, holding his head up high despite feeling as if it's impossibly heavy. Malfoys always carry themselves with pride, Draco Lucius' voice haunts Draco's head, so he pushes his shoulders back further and walks with elegance until he reaches the Slytherin table, reluctantly sitting down between Blaise and Crabbe, opposite the endlessly annoying Pansy. He doesn't eat. 

Harry feels sick to the stomach, his insides being turned and twisted into knots as he contemplates making his way over to the Slytherin table just to hit the cocky, pale faced, white haired Slytherin boy across his stupidly smug face. But of course, he doesn't, because who would expect their precious chosen one to posses feelings? let alone show them in front of such a large audience. He barely notices that he's been continually glaring in Draco's direction for the past 5 minutes until he catches Snape's gaze, the glint of those black eyes warning him away. He looks at his feet as he waits for the painful meal to be over, shuffling his feet in some sort of solemn dance, a secret one. The table before him is covered entirely with plates holding all kinds of breakfast food that make his stomach rumble pleadingly. But he can't eat.

****

At long last the breakfast period ends and both boys try their hardest not to bolt out of the door the second it's announced but fail somewhat when they end up being the first two to the lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts they share. Draco takes one look at Harry and feels his whole body instantly freeze and become tense, he shakily takes a seat for fear of collapsing right there in front of him. Harry doesn't bother to even glance at Draco for a second, which hits Draco hard, like the recoiling of a gun after the initial shot. But despite this silent exchange between the two, both privately fighting their own battles, it isn't long before the rest of the class begins piling in and the encounter outside the Great Hall is soon forgotten about, at least momentarily. 

However just across the room from them Ron and Hermione are frantically whispering, evidentially very worried or excited about something but judging by the look on each of their faces its most definitely the former. 'Did you see him during breakfast? He didn't take his eyes off of Malfoy once. once Hermione!' Ron pretty much shouts that last part, so much so that Hermione has to shush him as heads begin to turn around the room. 'Yes I did see Ronald but that's only one small part to a seemingly large problem'. Ron stares back at her blankly before whispering back 'Which is?'. She sighs and rolls her eyes but it's not enough to mask the clear worry behind them 'What is going on with Harry and why is he hiding it from us?'.


	6. I'm in Love with You

That night, back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione set their apprehension aside and decide that the only way to figure out and possibly contribute to the solving of what's going on, is to just ask Harry to his face, although Hermione is sceptical about their plan resulting in success. Which is why while every single Gryffindor slowly makes their way to bed over the course of the evening, Ron and Hermione are left the only ones awake, sat in mutual silence beside the dulling wood fire. At what seems like long last, Harry stumbles his way into the common room, apologising profusely to the fat lady for his disturbance of her slumber, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes and leaving his glasses askew. Clearly unaware anybody else is awake at this time, let alone in the room with him, he seems to be muttering to himself and no matter how much they strain their ears, Ron and Hermione can barely pick up a few words, 'memory' and 'creation' and 'rare magic' stick out in their minds, though they long for one of Fred and Georges Extendable Ears.

'Harry?' Hermione speaks barely in a whisper in attempt to coax her, more obviously than ever, troubled friend. He straightens his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose although there was no need to: a habit possibly, 'Hermione? Ron? What are you doing up? It's late'. 

'We could say the same to you' Ron states. Hermione glares at him and says 'We were waiting for you Harry, we're worried about you.'

'There's no need to be worried Hermione,' he stifles a yawn, 'I'm absolutely fine'. 

Hermione wrinkles her nose in plain disbelief 'And the candles in the Great Hall are suspended on wires! Merlin Harry, how much more shit are you going to spew before you tell us, your best friends I must add, what's going on?' Ron reaches to put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, 'Uhm, I thought we were taking a delicate approach?', she raises a hand to silence him, and to everyone's surprise, he obeys. 

With no reply, she somewhat storms over to Harry and grabs him by the shoulders, sitting him down on the sofa and handing him a cold cup of tea, but spelling it hot with an effortless flick of the wand. Despite the task at hand, Ron stares in awe, making a mental note to beg her for help with classes another time. 'Harry,' Hermione sighs, 'You've barely slept in weeks,' he makes a surprised sound so she answers his question, despite it being left unasked 'Yes we've noticed. We're your best friends. If you can't tell us when there is something clearly wrong with you, who can you tell?' 

He sighs in response to this, torn, while thoughts swirl inside his head. Have I really been acting so strange? I've just been going to the library to do research, is that such a big deal? Then why aren't I telling them? Maybe I should just tell them the truth, they'd understand right? No. I can't. Why? Because of who it's about. But it's not about him its about impossible connections and memory loss. Yes but a connection with him. How could they understand? It's Draco fucking Malfoy.

****

A little while away, tucked into a corner of the restricted section of the library is Draco, surrounded by open books, and crying. It scares him how often he's crying these days, it seems the futher and further he strives to be the Malfoy his father wants - forces him to be, the further he strays away. He sniffs and wipes his eyes, carefully turning the tear-covered pages of the final book, before putting them back in their rightful places, overly scared of being caught reading restricted books for someone with such a badly stained reputation. He grabs his bag and pulls out a photo, and looking into the warm green eyes of the bespectacled picture boy asks 'What are you doing looking at memory loss books, Harry? At dark magic books? What in Merlin's name are you doing up here?' He runs a pale finger along the creases in the picture, breathing in the old scent it's gained from being kept in that box and smiling as the picture does. 

He pulls out his secret box in order to put the picture away safely but is distracted by yet more letters between him and his picture boy. He's too afraid to leave his box unattended, the consequences of someone somehow being able to get into it being too much of a risk, but his keeping it around also keeps him sane, it reminds him what happiness feels like, or rather, what it felt like. He rummages through the box, finding one of the oldest letters in there and begins to read, though he feels tears begin to well back up in his eyes before he's managed the words 'Dearest Draco'.

Dearest Draco, 

There are a million and one ways to say this in a few words alone, and although my hand and consequently my quill shakes as I write this, there can be no other explanation. I am in love with you. Ridiculously and completely in love with you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your hair has a mind of its own and im constantly having to push it away from in front of your eyes, those misty grey eyes that seem to have a tint of blue when you smile the brightest, the way your hand fits so perfectly in mine, and the kind words you mutter to me without me ever saying to. I am in love with every inch of you, right down to the tips of your slender fingers and the points of your beautiful cupids bow. 

I'm best friends with the brightest witch of our age and I don't think even she could tell me how this came to be, how I fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with you. With Draco bloody Malfoy. But I really, truly have. And my heart races with the unknown fact that I don't know if you love me too, or if this is some sick prank, or if you've accidentally landed yourself in a situation you don't want to be in. No matter which of those it may be, if any, I want to know Draco. Is that too much to ask of you?

With love,

Harry

And that's when he knows. It was never too much to ask of him, because he's in love with Harry James Potter, and no matter how much he has to sneak around, or the amount of danger he must put himself in, he will find out what's going on with his Harry, because that's what you do for the people you love: 

You risk everything.


	7. The Golden Trio

‘Okay’ Harry says after more than a moment of silence ‘I’ll tell you but please trust me and try to understand, okay?’ Ron’s usually humour filled expression morphs into one of worry and confusion as he asks ‘Is it really that bad?’ Somehow this question has Harry at a loss, rather than waste far too much time planning an answer to a seemingly simple question, he decides to do his thinking aloud. ‘It’s not so much that it’s bad I guess, than that I already don’t completely understand, and I feel guilty enough so I just need you to not be mad when I tell you.’ Now, both of their expressions soften, worry taking over as the battle Harry has been having with himself begins to pour out. ‘Harry,’ Hermione begins, the three of them sat side by side in front of the fire, nothing but the distant hoots of the owlery to be heard in the night. ‘Whatever it is, we can deal with it together, like we always do, okay? The Golden Trio.’ Ron interjects ‘We’re here for you’

Harry lifts his head up for the first time since they began their conversation, peering over the rim of his glasses that have fallen down the crooked bridge of his nose. He doesn’t seem to care much. ‘It’s okay I can deal with it, don’t waste time worrying about me, I’m not your problem.’ This prompts Hermione to roll her eyes ‘Harry, please, you weren’t our problem when we went after Snape together first year, or when we tried to find Sirius in third, or even saving him in the Department of Mysteries last year. Just like I wasn’t your problem when I got stuck with that damn troll or Ron wasn’t when he started vomiting slugs. This is what friends do Harry, and just because for some reason it really is always you who ends up landing themself into some kind of trouble, doesn’t make us want to keep helping you any less.’ 

Ron and Harry both stare at Hermione in awe, her little ‘speech’ leaving Ron with nothing to add and Harry both more scared to tell them about Draco and more sure they’ll try to understand at the same time. So he explains, what choice did he have? He explains about the dreams, about how strange Draco has been acting, and about the strange connection he feels with him and how he can’t help but point towards some kind of memory loss or unknown element at the route of all of his theories. At the end of his, very long, explanation, Ron and Hermione sit silent for a short while, Hermione clearly thinking it through so as to give what she sees as the most appropriate response and Ron, Harry fears, silently shocked by what he’s just been told.

‘Okay.’ Hermione eventually says. Harry looks up in shock, ‘Okay?’ to which she nods slowly and adds ‘Yeah, okay, we’re going to help you figure this out’. Ron looks startled ‘We are?’ She smacks the back of his head, not hard, but hard enough ‘’We are.’ With eyes glassy with tears, Harry finally makes eye contact with Hermione, sliding his glasses up his nose before pulling her into a tight embrace. ‘Thank you’ he whispers. She doesn’t reply. She didn’t need to.

****

‘Fuck’ Draco mutters under his breath ‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.’ For the past few hours he’s been sat in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, Harry’s invisibility cloak pulled tightly around himself, partly to prevent any accidental exposures but mostly (and perhaps secretly wholly) to feel a part of Harry close to him again. What Harry told his friends was far too close to the truth and it’s dangerous, scarily dangerous, yet he’s torn. He knows that he should wipe Harry, Hermione and Ron’s memories for a second time but it’s not that simple. It can’t be. First of all, additional memory charms are tricky, there’s a possibility that the two erasures can overlap and result in the memory being restored somehow, even the most gifted in charms do not understand this effect completely. But secondly and most importantly, he cannot bear to see the little liking Harry has regained for him leave his eyes once more, only to be replaced with pure hatred. To look into the glassy green eyes that he remembers being filled with love and admiration only to see them narrowed with disgust paired with downturned eyebrows and a mouth turned into a frown, was to see a Harry he didn’t recognise, not his beautiful photograph boy. 

But one thought to what he’d see in those eyes if Harry were to find out about his mission while aware of their love and he knows that he must do something. When it concerns Harry, Draco’s emotions are his last priority. He thinks back to when he first oblivitated the three of them; he attempts to recall which of them had the least memories to erase and was thus, the easiest to obliviate.  
Hermione. Definitely Hermione he thinks. Harry had been scared to tell both Ron and Hermione but after procrastinating it for so long he had let slip to Ron one night a lot earlier than when Hermione caught the two of them sneaking into the room of requirement together. (Harry and Draco that is). Consequently there were a very small amount of memories to take from Hermione causing Draco to conclude that if he’s going to risk an additional memory charm on any of them, he will test it on her first. Convincing himself further, he figures that if the spell were to go wrong and result in Hermione remembering, she would be most likely to think through her next move, which would allow Draco some time to figure something out.

Mid thought, Draco catches onto the trio’s conversation once more. It starts with Hermione. 

‘I was worried for a second there Harry, it sounded like when you came out to us’

Harry shoots Hermione an extremely puzzled look. ‘I never came out to you? Why would I-‘ his face turns as red as the scarf draped over his shoulders.

‘Don’t you remember? Last year in the Room of Requirement, after everyone had left the Dumbledore’s Army meeting?’ 

Ron looks concerned ‘Yeah you started out pretty much like earlier on and then came out with ‘I’m Bisexual’’. 

Harry stands up, ‘But that doesn’t make any sense, I haven’t even figured that stuff out yet so why would I have told you?’

Draco seamlessly casts a time freezing spell with no idea how much time it will buy him, he doesn’t care. His mind is whirring. He’s really messed up now, how could he have been so stupid? With Harry it was so simple: get rid of every memory tied to a positive feeling towards Draco. But with the other two it was far more tricky, checking memory after memory for traces of him and deleting the ones that did. Harry had told him himself that he only knew he was bisexual for sure after Draco had kissed him, which means the memories of both discovering his sexuality and coming out would have been mindlessly erased. But Ron and Hermione hadn’t known that. So they remember.

Frantically, Draco pulls out his wand, resuming time and slowly moving closer to Hermione. As quickly as he can he casts the memory charm on her, closely followed by a spell of his own invention used to change the subject. He spends a lot of his time creating spells these days, anything to fill the time he can’t possibly spend asleep.

****

Once the trio finally go up to their dormitories it must be nearing time to wake up for breakfast, but nevertheless Draco begins the trek to his own room, determined to get at least a moment of sleep that night. Despite his effort and notable determination, he is brought to a halt by a hand on his shoulder accompanied by a murmured 'Draco' just outside the Slytherin Common Room. He turns slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he realises the invisibility cloak has fallen from his right side. 

There stands a dishevelled Hermione Granger, clutching her wand tightly and surrounding them both in the familiar glow of lumos. ‘Draco’ At the sound of her using his first name he drops his lantern, causing it to smash into thousands of tiny shards of glass, in Hermione fashion, she repairs it with an effortless flick of her wand. Draco coughs ‘Thank you’. She rolls her eyes ‘Never mind that, believe it or not I didn’t decide to wander the corridors at god knows what hour just to repair your damn lantern’ to that Draco mumbles a solemn sorry.

‘Draco, I know.’

‘Huh?’ 

‘About Harry?’

‘What about Potter?’

‘Oh quit the act Malfoy I remember everything.’

‘Everything?’

‘Everything.’


	8. What have you done?

'Expelliarmus' Hermione had Draco disarmed before his fingertips had even brushed upon his concealed wand. She holds her now extinguished wand to his throat, just under his jawline and says 'Don't even think about taking my memory again Draco, I want an explanation.' He looks into Hermione's eyes, to his wand lying on the ground a few feet behind her and back to her again. 'And don't,' she murmurs an effortless spell and suddenly his wand is in her outstretched hand, 'Try anything else you might regret,' tucking it into the inside of her robes. Draco goes to protest but she silences him with her finger to his lips, nodding her head towards the corridor behind her as a Filch sized shadow turns the corner.

Draco goes to yell that she’s going to get them both expelled when to his surprise his surroundings have changed. They're outside the Room of Requirement. 'Did we just apparate? How on earth do you have your licence already?' She rolls her eyes and responds 'They let me take it early,' and to the look of shock on Draco’s face she adds 'I'm Hermione Granger, it can't be that surprising.' He can't help but agree with that. 'And anyway, that's not the point.' She begins to pace back and forth beside the wall on which the door should appear, causing Draco to panic.

He decides to make a run for it but finds his feet rooted to the spot, she shoots him a glare and blows on the top of her wand but through not necessity but wanting to be dramatic. Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. 'C'mon Draco, I know you know me far better than I thought so you must know I’m not nearly stupid enough to let you get away.' He sighs in defeat and speaks for the first time in a while 'Okay, but can we go somewhere else?' Hermione notices that his expression is painted with pain and while she wishes to relieve him of some of it she knows this is her best shot at the truth. 'I’m sorry Draco, I really don’t want to see you upset but I figured if there’s any way to get you to spill it’s through surrounding you with memories.'

The door appears. Draco sucks in a deep breath and follows Hermione through the heavy oak door, scratching the inside of his left wrist ever so slightly. But enough. 

It's quite an uninventive manifestation of the room's capabilities, a small lantern lit room with a few beanbags dotted around the place, sufficient enough but in Draco's opinion, lacking. Nevertheless, following Hermione's choosing of a sky blue beanbag on the far left side of the room, he seats himself on an obnoxiously Gryffindor red one nearer the door. An act which earns an eye roll from Hermione but no criticism – she's evidentially exhausted. Stifling a yawn, she mutters a simple charm and while Draco feels no change, he is too aware that she has just frozen time. How long does she plan on keeping him for?

Draco sits fiddling with his hands : twiddling his thumbs and tapping the ends of his fingers together, waiting for Hermione to start her inevitable questioning. However when, after a few moments, she hasn’t began to speak, he finds the courage to look at her only to find she is in fact looking at him expectantly. He sighs, scrambling for a way, any way, to get out of this, but is left with nothing, the very last chance he had has long since slipped between his fingers. 

'What – ' his voice comes out barely a whisper and despite him barely starting, tears pool behind his eyes. Forcing them back, he clears his throat and makes a second attempt 'What do you want to know Hermione?' He attempts to sound as if he doesn’t want to waste any time, as if he has somewhere else to be (Though they both know this is untrue and even if it weren’t, for the most part, they have infinite time) but comes across as more pained and upset, which is only natural but fills him with embarrassment nonetheless and stains his cheeks pink. 

Then Hermione does something completely unexpected (to Draco at least). She stands up and moves over to him, saying nothing but wrapping him in a tight hug, enveloping him in warmth and something else he hasn’t felt since his last day with Harry – Love ? 'Draco I'm sorry.' Puzzled, Draco lifts his head, his far-past grown out bangs hanging over his eyes 'What for?'. She pushes hair from his forehead and tucks half of it behind each of his ears, bringing his glistening blue eyes back into view. More of his face is exposed than anyone has seen in months, his long hair always hanging over his face and body hunched over looking at the ground. 'Because,' She keeps an arm around his shoulders but leans back slightly to speak. 'You're hurting, it'd take a fool not to notice. Draco?' He’s crying now but she gently lifts his chin so he can look at her, though he turns away immediately, humiliated. She turns his face back to hers 'Tell me why Draco.' He wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve and stammers 'Why what?'  
'Why did you obliviate us and more importantly, why did you obliviate Harry: the love of your life, your words not mine. The only person I’ve ever seen make you smile let alone make you happy. The Draco I knew would never throw away something that important without a good reason.'

'And how would you know that?'

'Draco, please,' she's rolling her eyes now 'Harry was infatuated with you, he never stopped going on about how great you are and how in love the two of you had been. So don't pull any more crap on me Draco because one way or another I swear to god I’m going to find out what’s going on, whether we do it the easy way or my way, ok?'

Tears are streaming down Draco’s cheeks once more but he objects no longer. 'I had no choice.'

'You always have a choice.' She interrupts, clearly aggravated by his seemingly weak excuse.

'My father he, he made me, I had to – ' he was stumbling on his words, making no sense even to himself.

'I thought Lucius didn’t know about Harry?'

Draco shakes his head vigorously and sighs 'It’s probably easier if I just show you'

'Show me what?'

Draco slowly, and with a great amount of reluctance, lifts up the sleeve of his robe. A dark mark contrasts with his porcelain white skin, staining it with a mark carrying evil that appears to be moving under his skin. Pulsing. Slithering. While Hermione examines it closely in awe, his head is turned away, 'Draco why aren't you looking at me?' He jolts, surprised her first words aren’t about the mark. He quickly pulls his sleeve down, proceeding to wipe his tears away. He sniffs. 'I wasn’t looking away from you I was looking away from that. I haven’t set my eyes on it since you-know-who forced me to watch as he destroyed my skin. And I don't intend to.'

Hermione audibly gasps. 'Draco,' she begins but for the first time in her life, she finds herself with nothing to say. He decides he needs to offer further explanation 'I didn’t want Harry to hate me, I didn’t want him to have to see me become a monster. It was easier to wipe the love from his eyes than to be the reason it faded away.' Finally, Hermione manages to find her voice ;Draco, he would never have stopped loving you, you should have just told him the truth, he would have understood, he would have. Anything must be better than this Draco, I can see that you're breaking.' 

'Yeah, I am, not that I matter. So if you don’t mind I'd like to go and sleep and before you start, I know this isn’t over. I'll tell you the rest next time you manage to get me alone. I promise.'

'I believe you'

He gets up to leave but Hermione grabs his hand 'And Draco?'

'Yeah?'

‘Don’t obliviate me again alright?’ she nudges his arm.

He chuckles.

'Alright.'

And with that he leaves the Room of Requirement without looking back, so fast in fact that he doesn’t see tears begin to roll down Hermione’s cheeks as she unfreezes time.

Oh Draco, what have you done?


	9. The Full Moon

_That same evening at 12 Grimmauld Place._

  
'Sirius?' Remus peeks around the corner to see his husband sat staring out of the window, heavy rain beating against the glass just centimetres from his face yet he doesn't flinch. Nor does he reply. 'Sirius.' he says once more, firmer this time and laying a tender hand on his shoulder. He turns from the window, rubbing tiredness from his eyes and speaking through the curtain of unruly black hair covering his face 'Moony?'. Remus' expression softens, 'Of course silly, who else would it be?' Sirius blinks a few times and looks at his surroundings with seeming bewilderment. 'C'mere' Remus says, settling himself cross legged by the fire and patting the empty space beside him. Sirius, ghostlike, wanders over and settles himself beside his lover, laying his head in his lap. Remus automatically laces his fingers into Sirius' hair, pushing it back from his face and twisting small sections into tiny, yet perfect, plaits.

  
'You're worried about him aren't you? Remus finally whispers into the fire. 'We haven't heard from him in weeks Moony' he responds, clearly choked up. Remus just holds him tighter 'He's probably just busy with classes, friends, you know how it is sweetheart, think about how absent from my parents I used to be, when I was at Hogwarts with you.' With that Sirius sits up to look at Remus 'But he isn't like us, we didn't have a raging murderous lunatic going after us every chance he gets. What if? What if something's happened to him Moony? and we have no way to know, none.' Remus pulls Sirius onto his lap, facing him and tucking the stubborn locks of hair obscuring his vision behind his ears 'Sirius, look at me' he unwillingly lifts his head to meet Remus' sparkling green eyes, not unlike those of their adopted son. 'There is no way Hogwarts wouldn't tell us if even something minor was going on with Harry, Dumbledore? McGonagall? The Order? You have to trust them or you're going to drive yourself mad.' He shakes Sirius' shoulders gently 'He's okay, I know it' Sirius pauses for a few moments 'Okay,' he nods, assumedly to reassure himself 'Okay, I believe you.'

  
Remus pulls Sirius in close and buries his nose in his hair, tracing patterns on his back with the tips of his fingers. 'I love you' Sirius murmurs into his chest, lifting his head slightly. 'I love you too,' Remus responds instantly cupping Sirius' face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 'He's fine' he whispers once more, knowing Sirius needs just a little extra reassurance; he always has. At that, Remus reluctantly pulls away and begins to stand up, causing Sirius to groan and begin to pout. 'C'mon sweetheart, it's almost 9 and we haven't eaten yet' Remus raises his eyebrows 'And who's fault is that?' he smirks and the corners of Sirius' mouth twitch into a smile as he responds 'Okay, okay but you'll have to help me make something, you know how hopeless I am'.

  
Remus rolls his eyes but can't keep himself from smiling 'Fine' he replies, and Sirius extends his hand so as to prompt him to pull him up. Remus complies but mutters just loud enough for Sirius to hear 'Lazy bastard'. 'Hey!' he exclaims losing his balance as he stands too fast to attempt to push Remus playfully. 'I'll hex you if you're not careful, Black' Remus states through an overdramatic gasp, 'Oh really? And how do you suppose to do that?' Sirius replies, cocky. Remus smirks and lunges for him,causing them to fall to the ground, tickling him wherever he can reach as he shouts 'Rictusempra!' over and over again until they're both gasping for breath. 'Okay, okay, I give up! I give up!' Sirius finally exclaims, clutching his sides with the pain of being tickled. As he stands he breathes a sigh of relief, 'Shit, almost makes me wish we you weren't my soulmate just so you could hex me properly, Merlin's beard!' he wheezes.

  
At this Remus frowns, sticking out his bottom lip and feigning sadness with wide eyes 'I see how it is,' he sighs. Now it's Sirius' turn to roll his eyes 'Moony' he whines, trying his best not to give in but finds himself wrapping his arms around Remus nonetheless. His arms end up around Remus' middle and Remus' around Sirius' neck as they pull away from the hug slightly for Sirius to talk. 'You're better than I'd ever expected my soulmate to be,' he smiles sweetly and Remus' interrupts him with a gentle kiss, 'I'm the luckiest man in the world' Remus whispers, words slightly muffled from being spoken through a wide smile. Sirius kisses him back thoughtlessly and smirks, 'Yeah, pretty much.' Remus tilts his head back to laugh and puts his hand up to Sirius' cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb 'You're ridiculous, you know that?' He shrugs and puts his forehead to Sirius', 'I think I've heard that somewhere before' Remus laughs once more 'Hmmm, is that right?' Sirius kisses him again, 'Yeah.' Remus kisses back while grinning.

  
****

  
Much later that evening, when the full moon is shining brightly, Sirius holds Remus in his arms as he shakes just slightly, stroking the back of his hair. He always gets anxious during the full moon despite taking the Wolfsbane potion each month, and he wont sleep unless he feels safe. It just so happens that his safe place is Sirius' arms. After Sirius has no idea how long, he hears Remus' breaths begin to regulate and he smiles. He, as silently as possible, starts to move his arm from beneath Remus trying desperately not to wake him. Once he's finally free he apparates downstairs, wondering why on earth he didn't just apparate in the first place.

  
Once in their study, he seats himself at the desk by the window, barely lit by the light of the moon and opens the drawer to find a spare piece of parchment. He summons a fresh bottle of ink and a quill from the cupboard in the corner using an effortless and nonverbal Accio. He goes to dip his quill in the ink but hesitates, _Should I really be keeping this from Remus? We tell each other everything_ he thinks. _But I can't worry him anymore than I already have, not during the full moon._ He pushes himself to go ahead with the ink and begins to write. 

  
_Harry, my boy,_

  
_How are you doing? How are things at Hogwarts? I know I've already written this week but if I'm honest I'm a little worried. You haven't responded to my letters in weeks and I'm beginning to wonder if somethings wrong. You don't even have to tell me what's going on just please, let me know if you're okay and if not, how or if I can help, okay?_  
_And I'm sorry if I'm completely off the mark but you have to understand how much I worry with all the stuff that's gone on already, all the whispers of you know who. I know its probably a bit embarrassing at your age to get such regular letters from your family but you know its different for you, Harry._

  
_Remus and I, we worry._

  
_Speaking of Remus, could you please not mention to him that I sent this letter? I know you don't like lying to him anymore than I do but he spent so long trying to convince me not to be worried and it was sweet, but it wasn't enough and I didn't want to stress him any more during the full moon. I know you know how sad he gets at this time, you've lived with him too._

  
_Anyway Harry, please please please let me know if you're okay, and if you're not, we'll sort it okay? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, as I'm sure Remus would agree._  
_We love you._

  
_Sirius_

  
As he seals the envelope with the Black house crest (a crest he despises but feels fancy using nonetheless) and secures it to the leg of a wise but old owl he whispers to himself.

  
'Oh Harry, will you ever be okay?'


End file.
